I am sick. Nothing serious, just a cold that won’t seem to go away, but I don’t do sick well. No one likes being sick, I get that, but when I get a cold, I act like the world is crumbling. I wasn’t always like this. I used to get sick and ride it out and never talk about it. Now, I am not only talking about it, but writing a blog post about it. I must sound pretty crazy, or like a total princess. Either way, it’s not cool. I need to figure out where my tenacity and grit escaped to. Thanks to my Dad, I think I have an idea.
I was visiting my Dad 4 days ago, the day the beast cold started attacking my throat, and I mentioned that I felt like I have become super sensitive to just a simple cold, making a huge deal about a sniffle or two. He told me that he thinks I may feel like any physical ailment is just one more fucking thing on top of the big thing, the blind thing. And, yes, he did say the F word; I come from a family who use expletives freely.
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